The Rebel Code

Chapter Fourteen

"Where are you going?"

Mo rolls her head ever so slightly on her pillow, her eyes still shut. She's only half awake, but she felt me move. I miss being able to sneak downstairs in our old house, where it was big enough to walk without waking up my sister.

"Just the bathroom," I lie, stepping over her leg where she's sprawled on the floor.

She makes an understanding noise and rolls back onto her stomach. She'll be asleep again soon enough, and she might not even remember that I left. I'm counting on it.

John's been quiet all day, and he hasn't let us leave the apartment. It's just been homework and lunch and homework and dinner, and I'm eager to get out. Maybe if he'd been a little more relaxed after the incident with Junior, if he'd talked to me and made me a part of whatever was going on in his head, but he's shut me out again. He's been in his room all day, planning what I think is another move, but I can't do it again. I can't relocate.

I tiptoe out of the bedroom and across the apartment, tying my good shoes and slipping on a sweatshirt over my black outfit. The front door opens silently, and I'm heading downstairs, through the empty, echoing dance studio. I slip the star flashlight out of my pocket, and my fingers find the back door key in its usual hiding spot on Natcha's desk. I'm out the door, into the maintenance stairwell, and I'm free.

It takes a minute to jog my memory about the location of the staircase to the upper floor. The maintenance halls behind the shops are a mess of turns and twists, with no indicators as to where anything leads. I keep my flashlight on, my heart racing as my shoes tap their steady rhythm on the concrete floor. I think it was left, or maybe right and then left. I can't be far.

There's a smell of food as I pass behind the buffet. I can hear voices, and doors open as people toss bags of trash into the dark hallway for later removal. I can't be seen—not alone like this. Even if they don't know I'm a freeboot, I'm a girl who's definitely not a custodian using the maintenance tunnels. I'll get reported. Finally, I find the stairs to the warehouse, back behind the casino. I run to the railing, and my shoes have only just connected with the metal, when a door opens right next to me and the tunnel fills with light. I freeze, my vision temporarily blinded. A big, bulging trash bag slams into the wall right next to me, and I hear a gasp.

"Jenny? What are you doing here?"

"Larry," I stammer, quickly switching off the flashlight. "What are you doing here?"

He laughs. "I work here, remember? I'm dumping the bathroom garbage. You, however, are creeping around a tunnel after hours. I could report this," he says smugly.

"You wouldn't dare," I say, stepping back defensively. But I have to admit, we're at an impasse. One word from him and I'm in serious trouble, and now I've doubled the evidence against me.

"You're right," he says, shrugging. "I do want to know what you're up to, though." He lowers his voice, his eyes shining in the light of the door. "Are you going to see the council?"

"What council?" I blurt. Moments later, I remember yesterday's lie. Larry's face crinkles with confusion, and he points an accusatory finger at my chest.

"There is no freeboot execution council?"

I shake my head. "There is no freeboot execution council."

He smiles. "You're trouble, Jenny."

"I do my best."

"So where are you actually going?" he asks, heaving one last trash bag into the pile.

I tell him what I dare. I tell him about Junior and the agitators and the secret city under the mall, and how we're going to have to move again.

"So you're running away from home?" he asks softly. He sounds impressed, not horrified.